September in the Rain
by TakeMeOrLeaveMe2010
Summary: Max/Jude. Max really hates thunderstorms. Jude comforts him. Fluffy. -oneshot-


So, I've been inspired to write this due to the endless amount of storms in my area

**So, I've been inspired to write this due to the endless amount of storms in my area. Perhaps I'm glad it woke me up at 3 in the fucking morning and didn't let me get back to sleep.**

**ahem Anyway…hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

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For what felt like the fiftieth time that night, a loud clap of thunder shook the shambled tenant house. Max groaned, collapsed into his pillow, and squeezed his eyes shut. He never in his life would let anyone know this, but he really hated thunderstorms. It was a hatred that he and his sister had shared when they were little. She wouldn't be shy about her fear; normally, she would scream until he got out of bed or she would come into his bedroom himself. The two of them would fall asleep in each other's arms, gripping hands when lightning would flash across the sky.

Lucy had eventually grown out of that phase; Max had not. He thanked God he didn't live in the Midwest; it seemed one minute it was bright and sunny, the next a fucking tornado would pop out of the sky. But the weather could still be pretty awful in New England area. And the fact that the war had burdened him with jumping five feet in the air at anything that boomed, popped, or cracked didn't help the situation.

Sheets of rain against the metal fire escape created a deafening din, rumbling thunder and cracks of lightning adding to it. Jude, who had been sleeping, rolled over to blearily look out the window.

"Bloody weather…" he muttered. He looked down at his best friend, who had curled himself in a tight ball. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he also noted that he was trembling.

"You alright?" he asked with sleepy concern. Max glanced up at him, shrugging with false indifference.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Just can't go back to sleep…"

Jude nodded, gave him a pat on the back, then turned away from him. Max pushed blonde bangs out of his face, falling back into the mattress. He would do just about anything to have the Englishman hold him through the storm, but he had the feeling there would be infinite amounts of teasing before that would happen. Normally, he could care less whether someone made fun of him, but shit, this was _Jude_…

Thunder and lightning crashed again, causing him to jump and clutch the blanket for dear life. He groaned again, mumbling various profanities under his breath and starting to wonder if he'd ever get to sleep.

"Erm…mate?" Jude started awkwardly.

He turned, and realized that what he was clutching was not the blanket at all, but the collar of Jude's shirt. His death grip loosened instantly and he straightened out his collar, giving Jude a trace of a sheepish grin.

"Sorry about that."

"You sure you're alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Max scoffed. "I'm fine, man. Not a big fan of thunderstorms, that's all. Looks like I'm not going to work tomorrow."

"Oh? Why not?"

"I'll be on the couch, making up for my lost hours of sleep. They say you're supposed to get nine every night, and I'm certainly not going to tonight."

Jude rolled his eyes, but smiled. "I think the fourteen hours yeh get most days would make up for that, but who am I to argue? 'S your loss."

The blonde scowled and returned to his previous position, his back facing him. Though it was fun to tease, Jude was still a bit worried about him. He seemed more than a little put-off by the storm.

"So…erm…" He wasn't exactly sure how to say 'are you afraid of thunderstorms?' without actually saying it. He figured he could ask the safe, but not neutral question. "you _sure_ you're alright?"

"Go to sleep, Jude," Max growled in response. Thunder and lightning boomed and shook the building yet again, the most vicious episode yet. Even in the dark, the Englishman could clearly see him tense up and curl his lanky frame into a ball.

Ignoring his mind telling him to leave him alone, Jude scooted up to his friend and slipped his arms around his waist, pulling him towards him and resting his head in the small dip between his neck and his shoulder.

Max coughed, but didn't move. "The hell are you doing, man?" he asked, pretending to be perturbed.

The brunette gave up on tiptoeing around the obvious problem. "You nearly jump out of your skin every time it thunders, so I'm…being a good friend, yeah."

He could practically hear the American blushing through his words. "Well…" He cleared his throat loudly. "_for your information_, I'm perfectly fine."

Jude sighed in exasperation. The bugger had too much pride to admit that he wasn't, in fact, perfectly fine, and it seemed even when he willingly offered up comfort he would still push him away. However, he wasn't going to win that easily.

"Alright then. I happen to find you extremely comfortable as a makeshift pillow, since you seem to have stolen mine."

Max snorted. "Nice save, Liverpool, but if you wanted my pillow, all you had to do was ask. You didn't have to throw yourself on top of me."

The Englishman gave an airy, prissy sigh. "Perhaps I fancy you more than the pillow."

The American chuckled. "You _fancy_ me now, do you? Well then, that changes everything, doesn't it?"

Jude squeezed him in response. What he had realized, but Max hadn't, is that it was still violently storming outside, but their banter had kept his mind off of that matter. The blonde sighed as he let his head sink into the pillow, his brain forgetting the stupid storm and becoming more focused on Jude's strong arms wrapped around his waist and the soft, chocolate brown curls that tickled his neck.

"Hey, Jude?" he said, feeling his eyes close.

"Mmm?"

"Thanks."


End file.
